


The Red Curtains

by NightWinds



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Hanami is a made up character, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, depressed human being!Shintarou, ghost!Takao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:23:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5947234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightWinds/pseuds/NightWinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knew ghosts were real. Shintarou Midorima believed otherwise. He’s never seen one, so why should he believe that ghosts exist? It's stupid really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

On December third, Shintarou reluctantly got out of his oversized bed. The first thing he did, like he does every other morning, was to pull back the red satin curtains, exposing himself to watch the people scurry past two stories below.

In Shintarou's room, the first thing you could see was the oversized bed that sat in the left corner of the back wall. To the right of the bed, sat a black sofa fit for three. In front of the sofa, with just enough room for Shintarou's lanky legs to fit, was where the white coffee table was placed. Under the coffee table and the sofa was a white and black-checkered rug. On the right wall, his closet door stood there, doors slightly ajar, waiting for him to get changed and ready for whatever the morning had to offer him.

Shintarou lived in a neutral town. A neutral town meant a town that didn’t allow one speck of color what so ever. If you look out the window you could see the black, grey, and white streets, with houses the same color. It was a bland town, it really was, but for some reason, Shintarou didn’t want to leave.

Shintarou was one of the very sparse people that broke the neutral color rule. His red curtains broke that rule, but no one tried to tell him that it was illegal. Shintarou was very good with words and could talk his way out of anything and everything. He did, multiple times, until the authorities eventually gave up.

To say it truthfully, Shintarou didn't have any friends. A couple months ago, his wife had given him a present, not to be opened until she lost her long and difficult battle with cancer. 

One rainy day, she lost. One rainy day, Shintarou was lost. One rainy day, Shintarou grew depressed and pushed everyone away. One rainy day, people understood that he wanted to be alone. With promises to come back and check on him, they left him be. Months later, Shintarou was still waiting for them to check on him. Months later, Shintarou found the present stuffed deep under his bed. Months later, he found the red fabric curtains and hung them up without a second thought

He thought of his late wife often, she consumed his thoughts almost every waking minute of the day.

Shintarou was alone. With no family, no friends, nothing, he was truly alone in this cruel world. Was he okay with it? No, not really. Was he used to the way he would come home and nobody would be there to greet him? Not so much either. Was he used to the gaping hole where his heart should be? Yes, because he adapted the straits of being the cold, unfriendly, and depressed guy everyone knew him to be.

He looked out at the people only a second longer, before shutting the curtains with more force than he needed. Shintarou had nothing to do today; he worked at a winery just outside the town, the only source of color that was allowed in the area. It was a Tuesday today; Shintarou only had Tuesdays off of work. His boss, whom he never sees, and his coworkers go out for poker night on Tuesdays. Shintarou had never been a big fan of losing what little money he had in the first place, so he avoided it as much as possible.

He stood there, in his black and white striped pajamas, just standing there, doing nothing else but breathe and think. Think about how lonely he actually is. He's fine with being lonely; he's been his whole life. 

He was at a very young age when his mother died, he doesn't even remember her name; his father, on the other hand, he wished he could've forgotten. It was his fault, as much as it was his father's, that his mother died. If Shintarou hadn't stopped to look in the windows of the shop across the street of his old home, if he hadn't stopped to retie his shoelace, if he hadn't stopped to watch the neighbors play with their new toy car, maybe, just maybe, he might've been able to save her. 

When he came home that day, he immediately knew something was wrong, very wrong. His father was laughing, almost falling on the brink of a laugh of an insane man, muttering something Shintarou didn't understand at the time. Now that he's older, the words repeated in his head over and over again, making him want to rip out his hair and scream. "She deserved it, that filthy monster. She deserved the pain, she deserved more for bringing that disgusting child into our happy little family." Those words repeated day in and day out, a constant reminder of the broken childhood and the lonely nights spent sleeping under peoples’ porches to block out the wind. 

He loathed anyone who talked about their happy family and their perfect childhood. It wasn't fair, his whole life he had to provide for himself, while some people don't even have to make their own breakfast.

Shintarou hadn't even realized he'd started crying. The one good thing that happened in his life was taken from him. Any thoughts about the near future, Shintarou only saw days after days of constant sadness and constant depression. 

Hastily, Shintarou tore his glasses off of his face and wiped at his eyes until they stung. Shintarou Midorima was a man of strength, he never cried, not since the day his wife died, no matter the situation.

To distract himself, he went over to his closet and pushed the door open wider. Inside were black pants, and a mixture of black, grey, and white shirts. Toward the left side of the closet, was where his many suits hung. When he wasn't at work, he preferred wearing suits than a regular pants and shirt.

He grabbed a suit that was all black, but with a white undershirt to go under the black suit jacket.

After getting dressed, he opened his bedroom door and walked out into his medium sized apartment. His bedroom was by far the biggest room in the small living space. 

Right away, you had to dodge the two sofas in the living room and walk by the wide coffee table. Keep walking straight and you wind up at the conjunction of the bathroom door on the right, kitchen on the left, and front door in the middle.

Knowing he was probably the worst cook to have ever lived, he went out the front door. He stepped out of the apartment building and was immediately assaulted by the crisp winter air. Sighing, he watched his breath form in the air before disappearing completely, only to be replaced by another breath shortly after.

He walked a very short distance, two buildings over in fact, and walked into the family-friendly restaurant, the only restaurant in the town. He reached out his hand and latched his cold fingers on the even colder door handle. Just as he was about to pull it open, when the door swung open and out came a shorter, black haired man. 

"Ah, sorry," the man kept his head down and walked away. Shintarou watched him walk away for a few moments, then turned his head back toward the restaurant and stepped in. 

The decor looked about as good as the bland neutral colors could be. With the grey tables and chairs, black floor, and white walls, it had a weird homey vibe to it. If Shintarou didn't want to be alone, but still didn't want to talk to anyone, he would come here.

The only person that even tried to make a conversation was Ryouta, but even then, the conversation always ran short. Everyone in the town was friends with each other and could talk easily for hours on end, Shintarou almost felt left out. But it was his fault. He was the only one who didn’t believe of the rumors. Being in a small town, everyone knew every detail about each other, it was hard to keep anything a secret. News spreads like a wildfire; everybody knows all the details within a couple minutes. So, a while back, when there was a rumor going around that someone had seen their late mother, everyone thought that ghosts had somehow shown up. After a month of the rumor going around, someone else saw someone they knew that had passed, they believed that the rumor was real. 

Everyone thought that ghosts were real. Shintarou believed otherwise. He’s never seen one, so why should he believe that ghosts were real, it’s stupid really.

In the back of his mind, he hoped the rumors were true, he hopes he’ll be able to see his mother and his wife again. But surely, if his mother returned, so would his father, and that wouldn’t be good for anyone.

The thought of his wife coming back to be with him, out shone the evil that would sure come and get him if his father returned. How would you be able to tell is someone is a ghost or not? Would they have translucent skin like they do in the fictional stories? Would they be able to go through walls? Would they be able to interact with things and people? Shintarou wanted to know, but the only way he could find out, was if he saw one for himself.

He laughed to himself; he didn’t even believe ghosts existed, but yet he was hoping to see one, how ironic. 

The thought stayed with him the rest of the time he sat alone in the restaurant. 

He set the right amount of money on the table to pay for his meal, before walking off. Stepping out of the restaurant, he was once again attacked by the wind that had surely picked up from the time he was in there. He didn’t know where to go; he didn’t want to go back to his home, but he didn’t have any friends to hangout with. If he stayed out in the wind much longer he could get a cold. Deciding to make it an early night, he walked back to his apartment.

He unlocked the door and shakily took a step in. Everything looked exactly the way he left it, but he felt like something was different. Shrugging the feeling off, he untied his tie and slowly walked into his room. That’s when he knew something was definitely wrong.

The curtains were pushed back. If Shintarou remembered correctly, he had shut them. Why were they open?

Shintarou came to the conclusion that someone had broken in. Cautiously, very cautiously, Shintarou searched every corner of his apartment, expecting to find another clue. Surprisingly, the rest of the house looked untouched.

Still a bit scared, Shintarou didn’t get as much as a wink of sleep that night.

When the sun started to rise, Shintarou gave up trying to sleep and sat up. Like every morning, he walked over to the curtains and tugged them open.

He looked out, seeing the usual people walk by, but something was different. Shintarou got the same feeling he had yesterday when he thought someone had broken in, something out there wasn’t right.

He narrowed his eyes and looked around once more. He watched, seeing a woman walking her dog, a man reading a book in the park behind his apartment building, two kids playing on the small jungle gym, a black-haired man walking in the opposite direction the window was, a kid trying to chase a squirrel, a bird swooping down low before shooting back up into the air, and a man talking on a cellphone; everything seemed alright.

Shintarou was thinking about staying indoors all day, but he knew he couldn’t, he had to work today. Maybe the feeling would go away when he got to work.

The feeling didn’t go away, it intensified as he was leaving the winery after his seven-hour shift. As he stepped out of the building, he involuntary shivered, but not from the cold.

He began the three-minute journey back to the town. His blond coworker was walking ahead of him with his arm slung around the shoulders of a spiky-haired worker. Shintarou turned his head slightly and saw a black-haired man, with his head down, walking behind him. Shintarou was confused, he didn’t recall working with anyone that looked like that, but why would he be coming out of the winery?

Then it clicked. The accidental bump coming into the restaurant, the figure walking away from his window, the man behind him now, it was the same person, it had to be. Was the mystery man stalking him?

He shook his head at the obscure thought, making him take his eyes off of the man for a second and not more, but when his gaze focused back behind him again, the man was gone.

Shintarou stopped walking and stared at the spot he last saw him. That’s when he noticed there weren’t any footprints where the man was last seen standing. He backtracked and sure enough, there were only thee pairs of footprints when there should’ve been four.

The answer came to Shintarou as he was climbing into bed later that evening. As ridiculous as it sounded, Shintarou was sure of the conclusion he came up with. That man was a ghost.


	2. Chapter 2

The following week, Shintarou had not seen the mysterious ghost. He doesn’t know if he’s happy or sad that he hasn’t seen him. But maybe the ghost knows where his wife is. Shintarou has to find out if she’s back. He _needs_ her to be back. His life could go back to the way it was before, albeit boring at times, but it would be much better than it is now. 

Hanami Midorima, formally known as Hanami Matsushima, was the name of Midorima’s late wife. Hanami had black hair, which always seemed to be up in a bun, green eyes, a bit brighter than Shintarou’s, small in both weight and height, and was known to always wear skirts that showed off her small yet beautiful legs. Shintarou believed, still believes, that Hanami’s the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on.

They met back in middle school.

_Shintarou was the type of kid to get a hundred percent on everything he did. This aggravated some people. Constantly, Shintarou would have to block his papers to stop people from cheating, but Shintarou was used to it._

_It was in the middle of the year and the day before the math test, so, like every other day, Shintarou was studying, ignoring everybody in the classroom like he always did. The class was extra loud because the teacher had left the room; Shintarou wasn’t listening as to why she left. It wasn’t even two minutes later, when she returned, a short green-eyed girl following close behind._

_“Attention!” the teacher waited until everyone had sat back in their seats and stopped talking to continue. “This is Hanami Matsushima, she is a new student. She was homeschooled up until now, be nice to her,” the teacher now turned to the wide-eyed girl, whispered something, and then motioned over to one of the four empty seats next to Shintarou. She had her pick of the seats, either in front of Shintarou, behind him, to his left, or to his right. She picked the seat to Shintarou’s left, the end-of-the-row seat closest to the window. She looked at him for a second and then quickly fixed her gaze out the window._

_Shintarou had to say something. Even if she was forced to sit near him, she’s still sitting beside him; that counts as something, right? “H-Hello, I’m Shintarou, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Nailed it._

_She slowly brought her gaze to Shintarou, starting at his feet and working her way up. “Hi Shintarou,” she boldly stuck out her hand._

_Shintarou barely hesitated to firmly, but not to hard, grasp her hand. “W-would you like me to show you around the school later?”_

_“Sure, thank you.”_

_“If you want, we can go right after lunch, there is a half an hour break after, I should be able to show you most of the school in that time,” Shintarou smiled._

_“Sounds wonderful!” Hanami smiled, making Shintarou’s heart do a little dance. Well not really little dance, more like dancing the tango._

_The classes up until lunch had gone by in the blink of an eye. During lunch, Shintarou finally had someone to sit with. Then the break came and Shintarou was beyond nervous for some reason._

_They were walking close, shoulders not even centimeters apart. “Shintarou?”_

_Shintarou made a noise, sort of sounding like a hum._

_“I want to give you a nickname. I like to give all my friends nicknames.”_

_Shintarou smiled again. “Like what?”_

_“Shin.”_

_Shintarou broke into laugher. “Please no, no offence, but that sounds horrible.”_

_That made Hanami laugh. It was a beautiful sound that filled Shintarou with a warm fuzzy feeling. “How about Tarou then?”_

_“I have to agree, that’s better,” Shintarou stopped walking. “Nami,” he starting walking again._

_Hanami blushed just the slightest bit. “T-that’s good.”_

_Shintarou smiled triumphantly. It could’ve been Shintarou’s imagination, or a total accident, but Shintarou could have sworn their shoulders brushed._

_Toward the end of the tour, they came to the math class with a picture of a certain green-haired boy to the right of the door._

_Hanami gasped. “Tarou, is that you?”_

_“No, Nami, its another green-haired boy,” he glanced at her sarcastically. “Of course it’s me. I’ve told Mariko to take that picture down already.”_

_“Mariko?”_

_“Miss Omura, the math teacher. We are very close, she’s almost like my mother.”_

_“What about your real mother?” Hanami saw Shintarou’s face get a sad and far away look to it. “Ah, I'm sorry, you don’t have to answer that. That was very rude of me to ask.”_

_Shintarou hesitantly set his hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, you probably would’ve found out anyway. She- she died at the hands of my own father,” Shintarou laughed, the kind of laugh that sounds mostly like you’re trying not to cry and a bit like you’ve gone insane. “Can you believe that? My own flesh and blood spilled my flesh and blood’s flesh and blood. Kind of crazy when you think about it, isn’t it?”_

_Hanami opened her arms and hugged Shintarou tightly, letting him cry on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry Tarou,” she whispered and stroked his short hair._

_She let him cry onto her shoulder until his tears ran dry. “Thanks, I really needed that,” he whispered._

_“Of course, Tarou, I’ll always be here for you.”_

_He pulled back a minute later. “Anyway, that picture is from last year when I won the regional math award for breaking the record of having the highest regional test score,” he shrugged nonchalantly._

_Hanami gaped at him. “What? That’s amazing! Good job Tarou, I’m proud,” she placed a hand on her heart before hugging Shintarou again. “I’ve never good at math.”_

_“I can help you if you want,” Shintarou blurted out before he even knew what he was saying._

_“I would love that, if it wouldn’t be a burden to you,” Hanami smiled._

_“It’s no problem,” Shintarou said._

_“Thanks Tarou, you’re really amazing!”_

_The last year of middle school was Shintarou’s favorite year so far for sure. The summer before the first year of high school, Hanami and Shintarou hung out every day up until ten at night because her parents didn’t like the thought of them having sleepovers. Shintarou didn’t understand why until he asked Mariko about it one day._

_Then it made sense, everything made sense. Hanami’s parents were afraid they would do something romantic. Of course that would never happen, Shintarou hadn’t even had his first kiss yet, there was no way he would do anything like that, especially to Hanami._

_The last year of high school is a totally different story._

_Hanami’s parents were away for the weekend; meaning Hanami had the whole house to herself. She called Shintarou because she was lonely. Ten minutes later, Shintarou showed up at her door._

_They stayed up way past two in the morning, mostly watching movies. However, just as the clock chimed three-thirty, Hanami turned to Shintarou. Shintarou had a feeling he knew what was coming. “Tarou?”_

_“Yes?”_

_She suddenly got really nervous. “I- well, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the movies with me tomorrow?”_

_That’s it? “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”_

_“Just so we’re clear, I mean that as a date,” by now Hanami’s face couldn’t get a shade redder. Shintarou looked at her questionably. “Shintarou, would you go out with me?”_

_“I would love to.”_

_The atmosphere changed dramatically. Shintarou would be lying if he said he didn’t like the change. “Tarou? You haven’t had your first kiss yet have you?”_

_It was Shintarou’s turn to flush red. “Ah, no.”_

_“I haven’t either,” she whispered, finally breaking their eye contact._

_“Well, would you want to have yours? Now I mean. With me,” Shintarou pushed up his glasses._

_Hanami initiated the first move. She leaned close to Shintarou’s face, eyes fluttering shut. Shintarou had no idea what to do. So, he copied her slow movements. A second after their lips met, Shintarou pulled away._

_“I’m sorry, I really don’t know what I'm doing.”_

_“Copy what I do,” she gave him a reassuring smile._

_The second kiss wasn’t as bad as the first one, nor was the third. It felt weird, but Shintarou liked the foreign touch of her lips against his. Gradually, it became less and less awkward._

_Shintarou was glad that he went against everything anyone has ever told him and stayed the night. It was a nice feeling to have someone else’s body heat warming you up. Their backs were pressed against each other and nothing more, but Shintarou’s back felt as though it was in flames._

_They both went to the same college. Shintarou was bold enough to ask Hanami if she wanted to share an apartment with him that just happened to be above Shintarou’s price range. Of course, she accepted with a smile on her face and love in her eyes._

_Throughout their years at college, they grew closer, if that was even possible. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone when they passed out their wedding invitations for an October wedding; Hanami had always liked autumn._

_Their wedding was Shintarou’s definition of perfect. They had chosen a day where it wasn’t supposed to be too cold, because their wedding was going to be outside, and that some of the leaves would be off the tress, but not all of them. Their reception menu was on the traditional side, but Shintarou thought it was the best tasting food he’s ever eaten, well besides Hanami’s home-cooked meals of course._

_Two years after their wedding, Hanami went in for her annual doctor visit. When she came home in tears, Shintarou was beyond worried._

_“Tarou, I- I have cancer,” she whispered._

_Shintarou immediately wrapped her in his arms and together they cried. “You’ll be okay, Nami, you’ll get the best treatment and you’ll be all better soon.”_

_“You really think that?” her voice was soft with a tinge of hope._

_“Of course,” he put his hand on her head and brought her closer._

_The next day, Hanami gave Shintarou a gift that wasn’t to be opened until she had passed. Shintarou was reluctant to take it, if he took it, it seemed as though he was accepting the fate of her death._

_After a couple months, she was moved to the hospital. She seemed to be getting better once the treatment started. Shintarou was proud of her for beating the disease. She was getting better and that’s all that mattered. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to move from her side for ten minutes at the most._

_He was going to surprise her with her favorite type of flower, lilies, for when she wakes up from her nap. With the bouquet in hand, Shintarou walked up to the floor his wife was on. He was confused when people were shouting, because usually hospitals were so calm. “Code blue!” they were shouting. He saw doctors and nurses from all over the floor were running to one room; room 610 to be exact._

_The pieces came together. His wife was in that room. He dropped the flowers and sprinted past anyone that was in his way._

_“Sir, you can't be in there,” a nurse put her hand on his shoulder. “We need to let the doctors do what they can to save her.”_

_Shintarou’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean save her? That’s my wife! What’s ‘code blue’ mean?” Shintarou was trying to push the brown-haired lady aside. More people had to hold him back._

_A doctor came out of the room. “Let him in, we’ve stabilized her, but her body can’t handle the strain for much longer.”_

_Shintarou was already in the room by the time he finished. That’s when he saw Hanami, she was hooked up to more machines than she was when he left. “Tarou, I love you,” she wheezed out._

_He lightly took her hand in his, tears running down both of their faces. “Nami, I love you too.” He bent down and kissed her forehead, feeling the burning heat, and then kissed her lips for the last time. “I never should have left, I’m sorry,” he whispered to her._

_“Tarou, just know that I love you and it’s not your fault, don’t blame yourself.”_

That’s exactly what he did. He had watched the life disappear from Hanami’s eyes, he numbly remembers walking out of the hospital and sitting in the middle of the road. He remembers holding his head and shouting into the rainy night, begging for someone to let him be with his wife again.

He lost his heart that night. Taken by grief and sorrow, he didn’t come out of his bed for days. He grew depressed and became the distant person he is today.

That’s why he wants ghosts to be real. He hopes with all his might that he’d be able to hold her one last time. To be able to rekindle their love that had never, not once, gone away. Hanami Midorima was the one he loved and nothing would stop him from getting her back.


	3. Chapter 3

Every plan Shintarou came with involved the mystery ghost. The plan that Shintarou thought would work the best was to befriend the ghost. The first step was to find him.

Shintarou thought he’d be able to find the ghost within an hour of looking around the town. Oh boy, had he been wrong.

He put off the search in favor of eating and going to sleep early the first night.

Seven days later, he went to work. When he got home, he was surprised to find that he wasn’t alone. The ghost was in his room, facing him away from him, with his hands on the, now opened, curtains.

“Excuse me?” Shintarou’s voice rang out into the silence.

The man startled and started to disappear.

“No wait!” Shintarou’s voice held a hint of worry.

The man stopped disappearing.

When he turned to Shintarou, Shintarou was surprised at how _not_ ugly he was. He had eyes that looked someone mixed grey water with a drop of blue, almost like a slate color. His hair had a few strands of hair that looked out of place, but also in the exact place they were supposed to be in. He came up to Shintarou’s shoulders in height and Shintarou was reminded of his wife. However good looking this guy was, Shintarou loved someone else and was going to befriend him and use him, so he could see her again. 

Shintarou had tried to move on after Hanami, but couldn’t stop thinking of her; he broke the relationship off after twenty-four hours. It might’ve been that the woman he tried to date wasn’t right for him, or it might’ve been the guilt that was eating him from the inside out for trying to move on.

“Why are you in my house?”

“The curtains,” the ghost said, his voice like silk. Hearing his voice was a real punch-in-the-face for the plan of not thinking about the ghost in the romantic way.

“W-what about the curtains? What made you break into my home just to see them?”

“They are the only source of color, anyone would be attracted to them.”

“Well, okay, do you want to go get something to eat? Do ghosts even eat? I’m sorry, I just want to get to know the person who likes to break into my house.”

“Yeah, that seems reasonable. I’m sorry for breaking in, by the way, if that helps my case in any way. Oh, and your house is nice.”

“Yeah thanks. Okay can we go now?” Shintarou looked at him with his usual deadpan face.

The ghost shrugged and walked to, no through, the door.

Shintarou ran and caught up to him in the hallway. “What was that?”

“Ghosts can go through doors. Technically speaking, I didn’t break into your house, I just kind of _stepped in_.”

Shintarou ignored the comment and made the journey outside the apartment. The walk was quick to the restaurant, but seemed to take longer than usual.

Ryouta was the first to see them. “Shintaroucchi, you’re not alone this time?” he says, but makes it sound almost like a question.

“Yes, for once I'm not alone. This is my acquaintance,” Shintarou motioned to the ghost.

“Kazunari,” the ghost, Kazunari, shook Ryouta’s hand.

Shintarou found his gaze drop down to Kazunari’s muscled arm. _Hanami. I’m using him to get Hanami. He means nothing to me. Once I get her back, I will never have the need to see this man ever again. She is the one I'm going to spend the rest of my life with, if she comes back. It’s always been her. It’s only ever been her._

Shintarou cursed himself for thinking, even for one second, about Kazunari being anything other than his acquaintance. He’s a mere business partner, nothing more.

Ryouta showed them to their table, something he had never done before, and left them with a dazzling smile, so bright that it hurt Shintarou’s eyes. It was obnoxious, it really was.

Shintarou watched as Kazunari’s eyes followed Ryouta’s back. “Tell me about your kind,” Shintarou snapped.

“Shintaroucchi-“ Kazunari started, but got interrupted by Shintarou.

“It’s just Shintarou. Ryouta likes to add –cchi to people’s names. Don’t ask why, I have absolutely no idea. Okay, continue.”

“Shin, I’m not-”

“Don’t call me that either,” Shintarou said quickly. Hanami’s face popped into his head for the briefest second.

“Shin-chan, I’m not some kind of rare species. I’m dead. A ghost. I’m just slightly less human than everyone else. I don’t know why only select amounts of people were picked to ‘come back,’ but all I know is that I'm back and I'm back for a certain reason.”

“Did you want to be back?”

“There were a couple things that I never go to do, but I didn’t have a choice if I wanted to be back or not. I certainly didn’t choice to come back”

“What did you never get to do?” Shintarou asked, not because he cared, but because that’s what seemed right to say.

“Travel the world, fall in love, visit an aquarium, and other meaningless things. I know the last one sounded stupid, but I’ve always wanted to see an aquarium and I have no idea why,” Kazunari laughed. It was a nice sound that vibrated through Shintarou’s ears.

It was the second one that stuck with Shintarou. It came as a shock to him that Kazunari hadn’t fallen in love. He hadn’t gotten to feel the marvelously warm sensation of being with the person you love. Kazunari had to be around Shintarou’s age. Shintarou wanted to ask why he hadn’t fallen in love yet at such an age; so he did.

“Sorry, but is there a certain reason you’ve never fallen in love? You’ve got to be around my age.”

“Do you really want to know?”

Now that Shintarou was thinking about it, did he really care? “Yes.”

“My father had set up an arranged marriage for me, with some girl that I can’t even remember the name of. I refused; he didn’t accept that at all. He said that I have to marry her, but the wedding can wait until after my little sister got married. She got married to some prick, that only liked her for her looks, and she was forced to give up her career as a teacher to be a stay-at-home mom, the one thing she never wanted to be.

“There was a reason why I didn’t want to marry that girl, or any girl for that matter, but my father wouldn’t listen. When I finally had the courage to tell him that I liked men, he just yelled at me and slapped me across the face for as many times as it would take for me to forget about my queer behavior. After his hand got tired, he left the room and moved my wedding up to the following week.

“The day before the wedding, I was panicking, depressed, and _suicidal_. I told my sister about everything, even the suicidal thoughts. She was worried, so worried in fact, that she went to talk to our father. She came back into the room with a stinging red handprint on her face. That was the tipping point in my decision to end my life; I hated seeing my sister in pain because of me. Trying not to cry, I said goodbye to her, walked into the kitchen to grab a knife, and locked myself in the bathroom. I remember hearing her calling my name between sobs and pounding on the locked door. But by then, I had made my decision and nothing was going to sway me from it. My hands weren’t even shaking; they held the knife without a hint of fear. I made a single cut on my wrist, wincing at the pain as I broke though skin and hit a vein. The last thought I remember having, was that I should go into the bathtub so I didn’t ruin the white rug, but by then it was too late for the rug and myself,” Kazunari said, voice barely above a whisper, and sniffed. “So that’s why I didn’t fall in love, Shin-chan. I never had the chance.”

Shintarou was tearing up to say the least. “I-I’m sorry Kazunari,” Shintarou reached out and set his hand on top of the ghost’s.

“Don’t say that Shin-chan, I don’t deserve your sympathy.”

“Sorry,” Shintarou retracted his hand. “Why don’t we order something to eat.”

Shintarou paid for the bill and they walked out of the restaurant together, Ryouta smiling to them as they left.

It was dark out already, so it was hard to see Kazunari’s face. Not like he wanted to, but it was rude not to look at him if he was talking. 

“Thanks for the meal, I really should be going now,” Kazunari looked on ahead, never letting his gaze linger anywhere else but the sidewalk in front of him.

“Right. Maybe I’ll see you later,” Shintarou rose his hand to wave, thought against it, and scratched the back of his neck.

Shintarou watched the ghost disappear to god knows where. He walked back to his apartment, silence engulfing him like the bottom of the ocean.

He slept and went to work on repeat, doing nothing else, almost like a robot. 

When Monday came around, he went to work as normal, but when he was leaving, he found out that he wasn’t alone. Kazunari was leaning against the building, seemingly waiting for Shintarou to get off work. “Shin-chan, I need to tell you something. Not here, let’s go somewhere else.”

Kazunari walked at a slow pace, slower than Shintarou would’ve liked, but Shintarou followed behind him anyway. Like snails, they walked to the park behind Shintarou’s apartment. 

The park was surprisingly empty. Only occupied by a young man that seemed to have fallen asleep on one of the benches.

The sun was setting, making the shadows stretch across the ground. The birds fluttered around on the ground, chirping every few seconds. A stray black cat walked in front of the two men whilst they walked to a bench nowhere near the man that was still sleeping, probably in case he woke up and heard them.

The wind picked up and swept Shintarou’s hair into his face. Finally, they made it to a bench that, Shintarou noticed once he sat down, had a few screws loose. 

“So what is it?” Shintarou questioned when the silence became unbearable.

“Every ghost has a special bond with one another. We can hear each other’s thought if we so choose to. If we are thinking about the same person at the same time, we have no choice but to listen to them. All the time, ghosts hear things they didn’t necessary want to know. It can be useful at times, yes, but it can also lead to misunderstandings,” Kazunari looked into Shintarou’s eyes.

“Earlier today, I was thinking about you. Sometime during my inner monologue, I started to hear someone else’s thoughts. Meaning some other ghost was thinking about you. Right away, I could tell these thoughts were anything but normal. It sounded like a man, maybe in his late forties or fifties. He kept saying disturbing things about “his son” and how that he was going to “hunt him down and kill him.” It could’ve been your dad, I don’t know for sure, but the son he was talking about is you, so I thought you should know.”

“That’s ridiculous Kazunari. Yes, my father is most likely dead, seeing the state he was in when he kicked me out, but that’s not him. It can't be. Anyways, if it is, he can't hurt me so I shouldn’t have to worry.”

Kazunari was silent and looked down at his hands in his lap.

Shintarou’s eyes went wide and he moved his head closer to Kazunari’s. “Wait, he _can't_ hurt me, right? Ghost can't hurt people.”

Without looking up, Kazunari punched him, hard, on the arm. “Did that hurt?”

Shintarou rubbed his arm with a shocked look. “Yes.” Shintarou sat there, letting the thought process in his brain. “Ghosts can hurt people. That means ghosts can kill people, or at least beat them until they wish they were dead.”

Kazunari looked up and watched as Shintarou’s face contorted with fright.

“M-my father is back and he’s coming to kill me.”


End file.
